


The Broken Bull

by Grumpyhugs



Category: FFXIV, Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grumpyhugs/pseuds/Grumpyhugs
Summary: Grinnaux is alive after the aftermath of the Reactor. He awoke in the middle of nowhere in the desert of Thanalan, and must find his way back to Ishard. Perhaps not. Would he be welcomed? Or would he be shunned and chained?





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> I used to be Ser Grinnaux on Balmung, but now that I moved to Mateus I lost the name. I RP'd a lil bit with him but not too much; so this is the remnants (and continuation) of what I started with him. I will be updating it, but probably very slowly.

The sun bothered him. The grainy sand under his boots bothered him, it was too hot and he hated the noise it made with every step. He hated how the air felt, too dry and not satisfactory to breathe in at all. His mouth was dry as the ground beneath him, and his eyes could barely stay open against the rays of sun. Thanalan was an awful place. He knew it was Thanalan because of how awful it was. Why, of all places did he come back here? 

But then again, he should be lucky to have come back at all. 

The last thing he remembered was laying on the floor of the Reactor. His body betrayed him, he lay broken and dying alongside his Brothers. They had all failed. The memory of watching them in turn, one by one, fall and die made him… angry. A familiar feeling. But water rushed to his eyes, instead of the usual adrenaline that comes with wanting to punch someone, or cut them to pieces. One of the two, really. 

When he awoke from the dead, his first instinct was to call his Brothers. But no one answered, he was alone. The realization hit him quickly. And he wept. Grinnaux was not an emotional man, but the idea of being utterly alone? That hurt him. Paulecrain? Zephirin? Seven hells, I’ll take Charibert at this point! Anyone…? 

His broken armor remained on him, but he opted to shed it in this weather, lest the heat take him, again. He wondered briefly of death, would he come back again? Did he want to live? He pushed the thought away. 

So he wandered, for water and food, or at least to find someone. No one would recognize him here. Though, it may raise some attention from an Ishgardian being here. 

Grinnaux had too many questions. There was only one person who could answer them. 

He had to get back to Ishgard.


	2. Company

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was posted on my Tumblr blog for Grinnaux: bull-of-dzemael   
> I haven't updated it in forever, but this is the sum of what I have left of my Grinnaux writing. My tablet had several pieces I had written and it randomly decided to die on me about a month ago. I will be re-writing everything from here on. :')

Grinnaux hated, no, loathed Thanalan. The heat, (and soon all the noise and people of overly crowded markets) annoyed him greatly. The WONDERFUL variety in scenery was not helpful either.

He was lucky he was found by a Hyuran merchant along the roads. She gave him water and offered a ride to the Black Brush station, wherever that was. The little dark-haired woman had a chocobo and cart, loaded with boxes and bundled herbs. 

Grinnaux knew if he didn’t accept he would likely die out here, and so he did. Thankfully, the woman wasn’t overly talkative. She did ask what he was doing out there. He didn’t answer, and she didn’t press it. He pondered if it was because she feared him, most people did. 

Out here he was a nobody, though. He may be an Elezen which were exotic in these parts, but he was not known as being noble blood here. He could not use his name for power over these people. To make matters worse, what if someone recognized his name? The Warrior of Light surely had friends, or even admirers here. 

Thinking the man’s name put a scowl on his face. Murderer. He spat, he wasn’t much better. The Bull earned his reputation from quite the bloody escapades. He was a man of Ishgard, a Knight, but he was far from pious or even just good.

Why was he delving into his past like this? Was it the heat that addled his mind so? The man rubbed at his temples out of frustration and shifted his focus to the roads ahead. He turned to the woman at the helm of the cart, “Are we near?”

She scoffed with a smirk, “you sound like my kids! “

The Bull groaned.


End file.
